I recently heard a door shut. It wasn’t loud like a slam; instead it was one of those doors that closes, so very quietly, you almost don’t notice it. It was the door to my twenties. This shouldn’t be surprising because I’ve been securely fastened into my thirties for six months now, but when I heard it I thought: “Oh wow, it’s actually happened.” You see if anything miraculous occurred the moment I turned thirty, I was too drunk to realize it. I suppose I was expecting everything to become clear, but instead everything seemed a little more fuzzy than usual.

I’m currently in recovery for being overly-responsible. This is why I can tell those who are currently addicted to responsibility—it’s never worth it. You end up in dark alleys, in the wrong part of town, doing things you never thought you’d do; like somebody else’s taxes.